MEXICO NEWSLETTER #7
Dear friends,
As we left La Esperanza our minds felt a little overloaded with all that had
happened during our visit so it felt really good to get back on the road. On our
first day there was little traffic and the weather was perfect so we were able to
fully enjoy the scenery and let our minds wonder.
We found ourselves reviewing the projects in Esperanza and wondering if we'd
ever return. This led us both to thinking of the exciting plans we have once we
return to Socorro. H will collaborate with another artist to create a government
funded community project. It will be a permanent outside sculpture. They will be
working with residents of both the Alamo Indian Reservation and the Village of
Magdalena near Socorro. George will leave the first of May on another bicycle
adventure that will take him through England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales for the
next six months.
At noon we stopped along the side of the road to admire the ditch we'd been
following for several miles. It was wide and deep and seemed to be solid rock. The
image of crews of men slowly picking away in the hot sun came to our minds and
brought us back to Mexico, and our immediate future.
We have about a month to return to Socorro. The dried grasses along the road
are now starting to turn green and the trees are budding out. The route we have
chosen will take us through another remote stretch of land that rarely sees tourists
and probably has never seen them on bicycles. We do not know what to expect on this
last leg of our trip, but are hoping for spectacular views and the chance to meet
more of the very special people that call Mexico 'home'.
George and Holly
'COMUNIDAD' VS. 'EJIDO'
This week the path we have chosen has opened our eyes to the difference between a
'comunidad' and an 'ejido'. The people of a comunidad own their land, where as the
government owns the land of an ejido. The road signs don't say which towns are
which, but as we travel this last leg of our journey, we have begun to ask. We have
seen a wide range of lifestyles in the comunidads, some are large and on the verge
of modern, others are very primitive with no electricity. Yet, we feel there is
something distinctly different about the people living in the comunidads. They seem
to be more sociable, have more questions, and have an inner pride that we suddenly
realize was missing in the residents we have met of the ejidos.
LAS DELICIAS
The day we left La Esperanza, we road 43 miles. The last 25 were on a rough dirt
road that led us to the comunidad Las Delicias. Since one of us had an injured knee
from a non-bike related accident, we decided to spend the afternoon relaxing in the
empty plaza under the tall shade trees. While George updated his log, H sat on the
ground to use the cement bench as a table to finish up some drawings for the
newsletter.
Within minutes, the kids discovered us. They crowded around H to see her drawings
and were fascinated. We wondered if they had ever seen anyone sit and draw. The
older kids were eager to talk with us, and had many questions about our bikes.
Several young men in their mid twenties and thirties joined the group and we learned
that Las Delicias was relocated to its present site about 50 years ago when a big
dam was built. The town now has about 3,000 residents whose main occupation is
fishing the large lake created by the dam. They say their black bass are the best
in the country. We were surprised to find that many people speak English. Most have
papers, and spend part of the year in the United States making money. They are able
to spend several months each year in Las Delicias visiting families. All plan to
return permanently as soon as they have acquired enough money from their american
jobs to start a good business or to retire.
After a pleasant afternoon of talking, we took a stroll through town and watched a
game played with nylon tops. We never fully understood this game, but it was
something to watch being played with a friendly mix of young boys and men in the
hard dirt streets. As evening approached we bought two of the famous black bass and
headed for the lake to make camp by the water. We cooked the fish on the hot coals
of a fire we built and both agree that these fish were two of the best we have ever
eaten.
Lola
The next morning we returned to town in search of a hot cup of coffee. Las
Delicias has no restaurants, but we were told a woman named Lola sold coffee and hot
meals to travelers out of her home. Our knock on the small wooden door of an old
adobe overgrown with vines was answered by a petite 70 year old woman who welcomed
us into her cheery house. While sitting at the plastic covered table sipping coffee
and nibbling on sweet rolls, Lola joined us with her metal plate of beans and eggs
to watch the TV. The picture was far from perfect and the sound very fuzzy, so
George asked why. She told us her antenna was bad. Since we were in no rush,
George climbed on the roof and found an old broken antenna like she said.
While George fiddled with the rusted and bent contraption, H drew some sketches of
Lola and watched a neighbor digging a pit for his new bathroom. It was already
about 8'x 8'x 8' but the old man was still digging. He had a little wooden chair
down in the hole and would take a rest every few minutes.
Meanwhile other neighbors came to see what George was doing, and said that they
too had TV problems. George was quick to explain that he didn't fix TVs, but
suggested they make sure their antennas were pointed in the right direction. After
about 45 minutes, George managed to salvage enough of the antenna to give Lola a
good picture. The sound was still fuzzy, but that was inside the TV, and something
he couldn't fix. Lola was glad to trade the price of the coffees for his bill and
we were glad to have gotten a closer glimpse at life in Las Delicias.
Before leaving town we made a stop at the store for bananas and learned about a
religious fiesta at Tisonaso. Since this pueblo was on our route, we said, "Great!
How far is it?" The storekeeper said "Thirty miles," so we headed north.
THE ROUTE NORTH
This rocky trail took us through a ranchito (small ranching community or town with
just a few families) every 5 miles or so. We would stop at each one and visit the
tienda (store) for a refresco (soda pop) or a piece of fruit. At each stop we would
encounter local people who wanted to know our story. The one response we hear every
time is "Puro bicicleta!" which means "you don't have a truck, just bicycles!!" In
this area again we found that the people often don't get more than 50 miles out of
their pueblos (towns). This is the reason they can't believe that we have seen all
the regions of Mexico from a bicycle seat.
Lunch With Isidra
We were both feeling good as we rode through the rolling hills of the Sierra Madre
Occidente. The beautiful country with its ancient volcanic cones and stream
crossings (without bridges...), along with sharing our camino (road) with burros
made for a great morning ride. At 1 PM we rode into San Antonio, and stopped in
front of the church where several men were standing in a patio and leaning against a
wall by the tienda. This tienda was especially small, with room for only one
customer at a time. It was tended by a young girl who was constantly going back and
forth across the patio to the house. There wasn't much conversation from the men,
but the young girl from the tienda finally asked where we were going. There were
several colorfully embroidered tea towels hanging on a clothesline which H admired
and learned that the girl had made.
The girl was named Isidra. She told us it was the feminine form for San Isidro.
She said that many people were named after saints, and that there were both male and
female versions for all the saints names. We excitedly told her we knew who San
Isidro was because we had just finished a project about him in Esperanza. After a
while she pulled H aside into the tienda and quietly asked if we would like to stay
for lunch with her family. We graciously accepted and got to see another totally
different kitchen and way of cooking tortillas.
We had heard the rhythmic slapping of tortillas being made from the patio as we
visited outside. The steady beat had been going on for the better part of the past
hour, and had raised our curiosity. As we entered a dark crowded kitchen with a low
wooden beamed ceiling we were welcomed by Isidra's mother, another woman named Lola.
She was grinding corn into meal in a stone matate and hand patting the mixture flat
before placing it on the flaming wood griddle. Isidra sliced and cooked fresh cut
steak from one of their cows. When a patron would come into the tienda she would
yell "yo voy!" (I'm coming!) and take care of business. We were served thin, well
cooked strips of beef steak, beans, chile, and tortillas. The custom was to wrap
the steak strips in the hot tortillas with chile and dip the end in your beans. It
was quite tasty and we noticed they also used a clay pot to cook and store their
beans.
After a relaxing hour of eating, visiting and drawing caricatures it was time to
leave San Antonio and Isidra's family. We asked about the distance to the fiesta
and were told two days by bicycle. Since we had ridden 15 miles that morning we
were confused about the distance, but cheerily continued north.
The rest of the day took us through several picturesque ranchitos. We would ask
about the distance to the fiesta pueblo and received answers from 30 miles to 3
days. That night we made camp in a field with three burros munching on thorn
bushes. George guessed we had between 10 and 15 miles to go in the morning to reach
Tisonaso. The next morning, after ten miles of riding, we arrived at the fiesta.
After all the different distances we were told, George was proud that his guess was
the closest.
LA TISONASO FIESTA
La Tisonaso is a town of maybe 50 families but on the friday that we arrived we
guessed there were 10,000 people. There were make-shift camps surrounding the small
pueblo in all directions. Each camp averaged about 10 people and all had a camp
fire. We saw no camp trailers or store bought tents. Instead, everybody makes a
shelter out of plastic sheets and cut tree poles.
In the camps a good time was being had by all, with some families staying for the
full week of celebration. There were no public toilets or trash cans, so one can
only wonder what the area will look like after Sunday, when everybody leaves. We
suspect the grass will be a bit trampled, but because people bring their own cooking
and eating utensils which they which they pack up and take home with them when they
leave, and because each camp has a fire to burn its trash, the countryside will soon
recover.
(Special note from H: I imagine a week long fiesta in the United States would
literally have tons of trash being sent to the landfills because we would all use
highly packaged foods and disposable everything from plates to diapers. I keep
wondering why we can't take time to reuse things...)
As we rode through the camping area we stopped by a house and thought about asking
permission to leave our bikes. It didn't look that good as there were already lots
of people around. As we pulled away, a lady under a tarp motioned us to come over
to her camp. She had sensed our want and invited us to put our bikes in their camp.
Her name was Catalina, and she was there with 12 other members of close family. We
accepted the offer and exchanged greetings over a homemade gordito. Since we were
very dirty from the dusty ride and traffic close to the fiesta, we washed up with
water from one of the houses and our portable plastic shower bag. We then changed
into clean clothes in the cab of Catalina's red chevy truck.
After explaining who we were to several families in the area, we started our tour
of the fiesta. This was a religious event similar to one we have seen in northern
New Mexico. We found no one that spoke English, and had difficulty grasping the
history of the celebration explained to us in Spanish, but understood it was to have
some sort of healing powers. Catholics come from 100's of miles away to be part of
the celebration every year. Many people walk to the fiesta to humble and cleanse
themselves of bad spirits.
Not only were there spiritual dancers, and events all day at the church, but there
were also some 200-300 vendors surrounding the church to sell you everything from
fine porcelain ware to plastic pots, from hot buttered popcorn to fresh cooked pig
snouts,and of course an endless array of fancy clothes, electronic gadgets, and
toys. Religious souvenirs, fortune tellers, and miracle cures from snake charmers
to healing monkey parts abound the area closest to the church. A lot of vendors had
loud speakers that were deafening as you walked by.
We figure that because this area is so remote, for many of the residents, this
fiesta is sort of like their annual trip to K-Mart or Christmas in America.
We spent the afternoon checking out the total scene and to our surprise ran into
several people we had met over the past few days. As we watched a man cutting and
selling green sugar cane we were suddenly in the midst of a great commotion. We
turned to find ourselves tightly embraced by Tirza and her family from Esperanza.
They were thrilled to see us and amazed, of course, that we had gotten there on our
bikes. Later we ran into friends we'd made in Las Delicias. It was delightful to see
so many familiar faces in such a big crowd. We were still tourists in a foreign
country and having difficulty with the language, but were made to feel very
comfortable and welcome. Having completed our tour and not needing anything except
some vegetables for dinner and a sweet treat for Catalina, we returned to our bikes.
We had thought about camping by Catalina's pick-up and going to the dance that
night, but all the loud noise during the day changed our minds. When we told
Catalina and her husband we were going to leave before it got too dark, they were
disappointed and asked us to visit them in Santa Barbara on our way home. Our
present plan is to do that if our route doesn't change.
That night we camped on the other side of a hill from the fiesta. When the band
started at 9 PM we had no problem hearing it a mile and a half away. It became an
earplug night. The next morning we rode 8 miles of a very dusty road along with
continuous traffic going to and leaving the fiesta. When we got to the paved road
it was great for two reasons. First, no dust, second, almost all the traffic was
going and coming from the opposite direction we were going. We rode the rest of the
morning to Santa Maria del Oro, arriving at noon.
DUST - H
The road was dry.
As trucks passed, the black dust swirled in the air blinding my vision and
parching my throat. The winding hills were not steep, but it took concentration to
steer the loaded bike on the loose surface. Seeing a truck advancing toward me and
hearing another come from behind, I pulled over to let them pass. With my roadside
foot still in its pedal, I placed my other foot on the high dirt curb to hold my
balance.
It was like
stepping into
fresh
dry
snow.
My foot sank slowly into the black dust until finally coming to rest when the warm
powder reached high on my calf. The dust, forcing itself into my shoes and socks,
compacting itself between my toes felt almost like the wind blowing on my bare feet.
I see and feel and breathe dust every day, but this was a new experience.
The dirt was soft, warm and sensual.
THE COW JUMPED OVER THE FENCE -H
As I moseyed up a rolling hill watching the patterns of the barbed wire fence
along the road, I saw the most amazing thing! A cluster of cows was down in the
valley relaxing around some water. Close to me along the road was another group of
cows. One of these had wandered away a little and looked longingly past the barbed
wire fence at the other cows and water. Eying the fence, I thought it looked good.
The tight wire with no broken posts made me feel sympathetic for the cow wishing to
be on the other side. After a few moments, however, the big black animal slowly
rose up on its hind legs, lifted the front ones over the fence, AND JUMPED!
I imagined the howls of the huge beast with its hind legs stuck in the barbed wire
fence and its thick red blood spurting onto the dry grass. I froze, wondering what
to do. I could feel my heart thumping and my throat went dry.
The cow seemed to float in slow motion over the fence. Its hind legs broke a
fence post, but landed gently on the other side. As the cow lumbered causally down
towards her friends, the fence forgivingly sprung back to form. The crippled post,
still in line, commenced waiting for the grass to grow tall and fill in the gap of
sky at its base.
I have not been so quick to recover. The image of the huge cow in mid air reoccurs
often, and tickles my soul. Maybe cows really can jump over the moon!
CATTLE GUARDS - H
We have crossed many different kinds of cattle guards on this trip. But
today we encountered a new design, which I have renamed 'THE BIKE TRAP'. Instead of
laying perpendicular to our tracks, the bars are in line with our tracks. The
design on this contraption is separated into thirds. The sides have a pattern of 4
inch planks of wood or cement spaced with 4 inch gaps or air between them. This
design was obviously made for the tires of a truck with no consideration of a
bicyclist trying to pass.
The dirt road leading up to the first of these cattle guards was smooth. As I
approached, I aligned my bike, held my breath, and continued pedaling across one of
the 4 inch planks. I had to stop immediately on the other side to calm myself from
the panic of the crossing. I thought of my friend George. He is a much better 'off
road' rider than I, and I wondered if I would ever e as confident on my bike as he
is on his. I gritted my teeth and pedaled on.
It seemed only minutes before I came across the second of these cattle guards.
Imagining George whizzing across without hesitation, I braced myself and made it.
But, again, I had to stop just as I got to the other side to calm myself. This was
going to take practice, but I vowed to get it down by the end of the day.
An hour later as I pedaled close behind my friend George, he suddenly stopped,
straddled his bike, and waddled across the thin wooden planks of another cattle
guard. To my surprise, he said he wouldn't even try to ride across them. I felt
as if a teacher had given me a reprieve which gave me a great sense of relief, and
decided, at least for today, against trying to learn the trick of riding the
ominously thin planks.
As George rode on ahead, I dismounted, and started to push my loaded bike across
the cattle guard. Suddenly, the front tire slipped into a gap. I lost control and
fell forward over the handlebars. Recovering myself, I no sooner rescued my front
tire from the gap, then the back tire slid in. It took a hefty tug to get it out.
On the next crossing I thought , instead of straddling the bike, I'd try walking
along its side. This proved even more difficult, as there were only 4 planks and
then that BIG hole in the middle. I learned how hard it is to control a loaded bike
walking so close to it.
As the day progressed, I renamed these special cattle guards 'THE BIKE TRAPS', as
I got caught several times. It was one of those days where my awkwardness seemed to
be at a peak. I never got the confidence to try to ride across the bike traps
again, and I lost my balance every time I walked them.
The bike and I survived the 20 odd crossings with no major scrapes or bruises.
But tonight my sides ache a little from the several fits of laughter I had to suffer
through. It is a good thing George missed watching me negotiate all of these
crossings, for together we would have laughed so hard at my 'graceful' maneuvers
that I might have become permanently doubled over.
THE PAVED ROAD - George
In Santa Maria I asked two different people about the road to La Providencia. To
make sure we were talking about the same town, I brought out my map and showed them
the road. They both said they were familiar with the town and the road and that it
was a good paved road. The map showed it to be dirt, and since it looked to be about
150 miles long,I wanted to make sure it was rideable. Since they said it was paved
now, I had no more concerns. After La Providencia, we plan to take another road to
Santa Barbara to visit Catalina and family. Our map shows this road to be less than
a gravel road, but my two knowledgeable friends said it also was paved.
About eight miles out of Santa Maria the paved road turned to dirt. The next town
was San Bernardo. We met a couple of gentlemen in the street who looked at our map
and confirmed our direction was correct, but said we were crazy to ride a bike that
far on a dirt road. We didn't tell them the paved road story, instead we just rode
up the dirt road as if we knew what we were
doing.
A Pleasant Start
The first 7 or 8 miles followed a wide river with just a small stream of water
meandering through a rocky trough. In the late summer when this river runs, it must
be quite a sight. In placed it was 1/4 mile wide and you could see by the debris in
the trees how high the water has been. We camped in a tall grass pasture our first
night and were treated to a beautiful sunrise the next morning. The sun came up with
such fury that we were able to start riding without a jacket for the first time this
trip.
The first ranchito we visited that morning was Sardinas. A friendly middle aged
father asked us to come to his house for coffee where we were also served beans and
eggs mexicano (with chile, tomatoes, and onions). Inside the simple house we sat at
a huge solid wood table on intricately carved chairs with red velvet cushions. H
drew several caricatures of the kids which brought smiles to everybody. For some
reason, the women didn't want their pictures drawn. From here the road left the
river bottom and climbed very steep rocky hills to where we were road atop a high
ridge. The ridge ride had a fantastic a view off to both sides into two different
river valleys. Below we could see small ranches with their irrigated fields and
livestock grazing on last years crops. It was like we were in an airplane and able
to look out both sides. That afternoon, our road dropped off the rolling ridge to
one of the river bottoms where we made camp in a sandy arroyo. The banks of the
arroyo gave us protection from some unpleasant high winds that came up in the
afternoon.
Looking for Food
That night we ate all the food we were carrying and were still hungry, but not
starving. The next morning we broke camp and rode six miles into a small pueblo (20
de Abril) that was supposed to have three stores. Well once again you can't always
believe what you hear. The pueblo only had one store and it was closed. We asked
some people in the street about other places to buy food, and they said their
daughter would get the lady to open the store. It, however, had very little to
offer two hungry people. We ended up buying 2 bananas (very ripe), a can of V-8
juice, a package of cookies and a lime drink. As we left town we hoped the next
ranchito would have more to offer.
The next ranchito, Matalotes, was situated in a side canyon with an active river.
It had a good sized lake in the middle of it and several green fields at the mouth
of the canyon. As we rode into the canyon there were no defined roads, just paths
between the houses and corrals. We made our way through the maze and around the
meandering cows and pigs to the store. We were greeted at the door by a father,
daughter combination who right away wanted to know what we were doing in their part
of the canyon on bicycles. We told them that we enjoyed the adventure of exploring
but they still couldn't believe that we got to their ranchito on bicycles especially
loaded like they are.
We ended up buying 2 plates of beans and tortillas from these people. Before we
left their small store we bought 2 cans of tuna, a can of corn, 4 rolls, and a pound
or raisins. It was a good thing we ate lots of beans and tortillas because the hill
to get out of that canyon was never ending and got steeper as it climbed. We ended
up taking an afternoon siesta half way up.
It's Nice To Be A Handyman
For the rest of the afternoon we continued north on our rocky road. The winds had
come up with such powerful gusts that if they hit you from the side your bike would
shift in the loose gravel and cause you to lose control. I could see in my mirror
that Holly was having lots of problems with the wind. When you see the bike on the
ground, you know things aren't going well. As we topped a hill H expressed her
frustrations and wanted to know why she was having so much trouble. I thought her
handle bars were too high and too close to her seat, so we made several
modifications to give her a lower center of gravity. It's two days later now, and
she feels that the modification did the job, but is thinking of investing in a bike
with a different frame geometry before our next adventure.
Another Night In Paradise
In the late afternoon of this windy day, we arrived in Orestes Pereya, an old
railroad town. It was the largest pueblo we had seen in several days so we were
able to stock up on food supplies. The girl in the store saw we were hungry and gave
us some red chile enchiladas they had left over from lunch. We gobbled them down as
the dozen or so onlookers watched and felt revived with an additional two big pieces
of sweet rolls.
The girl at the store also told us about some hot springs north of town. We found
them and were granted permission to bathe and camp. After the hard ride, the
flowing hot water felt great. It turned out to be a popular spot where several ranch
hands came to bathe. The last of which road off on his horse in the sunset singing a
ballad at the top of his lungs.
A Special Town
The next morning it was extremely cold next to the river. Several men cane with
their shopping bags of clean clothes to bathe in the hot spring water, so we decided
to ride for a while until it warmed up to eat breakfast. After a few miles we
stopped on a sunny hill, built a small fire, and enjoyed our avocado , tomato, and
chile on french rolls. After riding for a couple of hours we came to a small town
which we turned into for our afternoon break. As we rode down into the valley,
meandering amongst the houses and corrals, we commented on the beauty of the area.
The first house we came to looked freshly white washed and had bright blue trim. A
woman and two girls were out on the front patio sewing. We stopped to ask if there
was a store. The woman jumped up from the foot powered sewing machine and wanted to
know why we needed a store. She said if we were looking for food to come into her
house. She would love to fix some for us.
We discovered the town was a comunidad named Rancho Nuevo. The woman's name was
Teresa. Teresa wore a ball cap that said "HEAVY DUTY TRUCK" and never stopped
talking the whole time she was fixing us something to eat. We got to talk when we
would answer her questions and it was with one of these answers that she found out
about the San Isidro project in Esperanza. This really got her excited as San
Isidro was also the saint for their new church that was under construction. After
we ate we got a tour of the new church, which looked nicer than most we see in small
communities.
We spent about two hours walking around town and talking to everybody we met. Many
people had relatives in the Unites States, but they also seemed to have papers and
were able to make visits. Everyone was very pleasant and not at all shy. There are
about thirty families in Rancho Nuevo. The store was half as big as Lucina's in
Esperanza. Many of the buildings are crumbling adobe that date back at least a
hundred years. There is no electricity, but we understand they should get it
sometime this year. There is a natural hot spring in the valley which already looks
lush. We were intrigued to find that this community with no modern conveniences
seemed to have a very alive and progressive spirit. We asked a couple of people if
they thought the community would get involved if we were to come back to do a
project with the church and the school. Even though they knew nothing about us,
they were very enthusiastic about the idea. They said "Why leave? We'd like to get
started right away!" It may be an interesting possibility to tuck away in our
thinking caps.
CLOSING THOUGHTS
It has been just one week since we left Esperanza, we have 900 miles to go to get
home, and we find ourselves already thinking of returning to Mexico for other
projects. The route we have chosen on the back roads of Mexico has given us many
physical challenges, with the cold, the wind, muddy roads, and steep hills. There
are few modern conveniences. It is not where most tourists go, and not typical of
what one should think of when they imagine life in Mexico, for life in the cities is
very much the same in Mexico as in the United States. We have chosen this path to
learn about people that live differently than we are accustomed to. We continue to
be delighted with their warmth and high spirits, and in awe of the undisturbed
natural beauty of the land. Now we are wondering what it would be like to travel the
rural routes in America, for we also have places that do not yet have electricity
and running water.
HOW'S OUR BIKES - George?
The rock dirt roads of the past 250 miles has taken its toll on our mechanical
mules. H has broken another spoke and her brake pads have become badly glazed from
over heating. We still have spare spokes and I trimmed about an 1/8 of an inch from
her brake pads which she reports has helped. The cord on my rear tire has broken
which has caused a bubble on the side wall. I see no sign of a cut anywhere, so I
guess the combination of weight and rocky travel caused the problem. I am carrying
a spare tire so I will change it in Santa Barbara after we get off these gravel
roads.
HOW'S OUR HEALTH - George?
The last 250 miles of back country travel and gravel roads has also taken a toll
on our bodies. We both are sporting many scrapes and scabs caused by coming too
close to sticker bushes and numerous falls in the rocky terrain. This area also has
lots of little sticker balls everywhere on the ground. At night these things always
seem to show up in our hands and somehow in our tent. Right now I have about ten of
these stickers that are slowly festering their way out of my hands. Somehow H has
managed not to be bothered by them.
FROM THE KITCHEN:
Since we've been back on the road, we've been eating very simply. We buy as many
fresh fruits and vegetables as we can to make salads. We have been finding home made
cheeses and getting crackers to eat it with when we cannot find 'bolleos' (little
hard rolls like french bread). Sometimes we treat ourselves in the afternoons to
splitting an eight-pack of cookies, or 'penguinies', which are like 'Hostess'
cupcakes, chocolate with dark frosting and a cream filling.
H'S FAVORITE CAMP SALAD
Sliced cabbage, tomatoes, carrots, and chile seasoned with fresh lime juice and
garlic salt. Raisons, optional.
ALTERNATE SALAD
Sliced avocado, cucumber and tomato, also seasoned with fresh lime juice and garlic
salt.
DELIGHTFUL APPETIZERS
Apple slices arranged on a flat surface squirted with fresh limon juice and topped
with a small cube of homemade cheese. (A light white processed cheese may be
substituted.)
If I Had A Cam Coder - George
#1 Today's ride was up and down some very steep hills with lots of rocks. The hills
are so steep I have been wondering how the 2-wheel drive pick-up trucks can climb
them, but today I found out. Every time a pick-up passes us, it always has lots of
people crowded into the cab. Today I came on to a pick-up just as it was topping a
hill and got to see all but the driver jumping out of the bed and back into the cab.
Apparently, if you go anywhere around here in your pick-up, you have to have a lot
of passengers to ballast.
IF I HAD A CAM CODER - H
The day after we left Rancho Nuevo we ran into the crew bringing the electricity
to town. My movie would first show how they dug a big hole by hand, put a cement
pole in it with four ropes tied around it so four men could raise the pole and
adjust its level. The 'heffy' (boss) would stand way back holding a bottle of coke
with two inches of liquid in it out in front of him to sight the pole and make it
straight.
The second part of my movie would be visiting with the people and talking about
this change coming into their lives. When we ask them, "What electrical appliance do
you want first?", I would like to show you the look in their eyes as they answer,
"A television, of course! Then a radio, a washing machine, and finally a blender!"
"The bones in this fish would make good needles."
"How do you spell....."
"These sheep have faces that look like they are from outer space."
"You could never capture that on film, or in words."
"The sky here might even be prettier that back in Socorro."
George as we were trying to catch a ride in the wind and rain on a nice paved road
that happens to have absolutely NO traffic, "Maybe if we start riding it will make
the traffic come."
George to H, "How can you get so dirty just riding a bike?"
"We went a whole day without eating corn or beans..."
"I wonder if we'll be needing our long pants everyday for the rest of the trip?"
"Being a taxi cab driver in La Junta must be kind of like being in a fraternity.
They all get to use the little house on the plaza that has a phone in it. Then they
sit around and drink coke together or have a beer, but you rarely get to see them to
anywhere. When one finally does go all the others get to move their taxis up a
slot. The system is just to open the driver's door, take the car out of gear, and
push."
"There might be more Mexicans in the U.S. than in Mexico.